Berlin
by Jedicren
Summary: Tony and Ziva head to Berlin to apprehend Ilan Bodner. While there, they make a startling realization. Before any rules are broken, however, they need to ask the permission from the one person they trust (and fear) the most: Leroy Jethro Gibbs. TIVA, Spoiler: Written pre 10x21: Berlin
1. Chapter 1

Title: Berlin

Chapter: 1

* * *

The flight to Berlin was long, made even longer by the three-hour layover in Brussels and Tony's irritating silence.

They had left D.C. at 06:00 at the insistence of Director Vance. "We need this finished," he had whispered harshly as he handed over the airline tickets and the company credit card.

Ziva had nodded in reply, shooting him a meaningful look. She was not the only person who needed closure. Ziva and Vance shared a bond—forged by hatred—for the man that had murdered their loved ones.

"Ziva!"

Her thoughts had been elsewhere. Tony's voice brought her back to the present. He was standing next to a taxi, holding the door open for her. She slid in and handed the driver the information for the hotel. As the taxi breezed through the early morning traffic, Ziva leaned her head back against the cold seat and closed her eyes. She hugged her satchel against her chest and spent the next few minutes clearing her thoughts. Her mind was exhausted from nonstop work over the past few weeks.

Twenty minutes later, the cab came to a stop in front of the hotel. Ziva took a deep breath and braved a look at Tony. The sun was not yet visible over the horizon and she could barely make out his features in the darkness of the cab. She guessed it was about 03:00 Berlin time.

As they exited the cab, Tony turned to address her for the first time since they boarded the flight in D.C. "Gibbs will be expecting a call before we hit the sack." His voice was matter-of-fact. He grabbed their bags and led the way into the lobby of the hotel, walking briskly.

Ziva had been getting the cold shoulder since Tony had pinged her cell phone and found her and McGee holed up, searching for Bodner. He had a right to be angry; she did not dispute that. As she followed him at a short distance down the hotel corridor, she wondered how long his anger would last. They had been at this intersection so many times before. She didn't confide something, he found out… it usually did not end well. Ziva watched as he snapped the key card in and out of the lock and pushed the door open.

It took her a minute before realization dawned. "One room?" she asked, blinking in surprise.

Tony dropped the bags unceremoniously onto the floor and turned to face her. "Two rooms, one living space," he said flatly, nodding toward the doors at either end of the main room.

Ziva snorted, "NCIS could not afford separate hotel rooms?" She walked toward the closest bedroom and peered in.

"Oh no, they could," Tony replied, a sarcastic edge creeping into his voice. "I _insisted_ we share."

Ziva furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. This time, it only took her a second to catch up. "You do not trust me," she stated dryly.

Tony's face was unreadable. He took a slow step toward her, shaking his head. "I think the more interesting question is, do you trust me, _Ziva_?" They were standing toe-to-toe, glaring at one another now.

Ziva shook her head and crossed her arms, infuriated. "I did not tell you that I was looking for Bodner because I wanted to protect you, Tony!" Her was an octave higher now.

"Well thanks for that. I'm going to assume that Tim McHelpful didn't need your protection?"

Ziva looked at him incredulously. "This is about _McGee_?" she cried. "I needed him to…"

"It's not about McGee." Tony shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie with a yank. "We're in a foreign city looking for your father's killer. If you're in a room next door or down the hall, I won't be able to hear when you try to sneak off by yourself."

Ziva felt heat shoot up her spine. "You assume that I would not be able to sneak out of the same room?!" She balled her hands into fists. "This is about my asking McGee for help instead of you, is it not?"

Tony bristled, "This is about you _lying_ to everyone that cares about you."

"I did not want to involve anyone in my fight!"

"You—," Tony was cut off by his phone chirping. He looked at the screen before answering. "Yeah, boss." He glared at her as he spoke. "Safely at the hotel… yeah… she's fine." A few "yeses" later, he hung up. The two were silent for a minute.

"I'm going to bed," Tony said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"It _is_ tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

Ziva watched as he disappeared through the doorframe of the nearest bedroom, leaving the door open a crack, presumably, so he could hear her escape. She sighed. With nothing else to do but go to bed herself, she stalked into the adjacent room and shut the door, hard.

* * *

**Washington D.C. 07:00**

McGee tapped his pen against his palm as the MTAC screen lit up and a tired-looking Ziva filled the monitor. She was sitting cross-legged on a floral sofa, a steaming mug in her hands.

"Morning," he said cheerfully.

"Afternoon."

"Where's Tony?" McGee asked.

"You mean Special Agent Cranky-Pants?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I can _hear_ you," came Tony's voice from off-screen.

Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?" Gibbs asked, moving to stand next to McGee so he was visible to Ziva on screen.

Tony, appearing jet-lagged and irritable, sat down next to Ziva and crossed his arms. "No, boss. No issues here."

McGee snickered at the visible annoyance between his two teammates. It was obvious that some kind of fight had taken place, and he guessed it had to do with Ziva's search for Bodner (that hadn't included Tony).

"Ziva, you hear from Schmeil?" Gibbs asked, changing the subject.

"No, but my Mossad contact thinks Bodner may be trying to rustle up support from old military friends."

"We had a possible sighting at a bus station near the Brandenburg Gate," McGee said, pulling up a fuzzy photo of a Bodner-lookalike and highlighting the station number. "CIA thinks he may be trying to enlist the services of Otto Wollf, a known counterfeiter."

"He is trying to go underground," Ziva said, shaking her head.

"Wollf is one of the best identification counterfeiters in the world," McGee said. A photo of Wollf—bearded, with piercing blue eyes—popped up on the screen. "He's been on the FBI and CIA watch-list for nine years."

"How do we find him?" Tony asked.

"You don't," Gibbs said, taking a drink of his coffee. "We do."

"Abby is working through a list of known contacts for Wollf," McGee added. "We're hoping someone can lead us to him."

"And we just sit here and wait until Bodner has disappeared again?" Ziva asked, agitation creeping into her voice.

"You need to find Bodner's Berlin contact," Gibbs said.

"You've known him your whole life, Ziva," McGee added. "Try to think of someone that he may have mentioned, someone that he may have known briefly… at school or in the military."

Ziva leaned back against the sofa and tapped her fingers against her cup. "If I think of anyone, I will let you know."

McGee nodded.

Gibbs gave them a half-smile. "And in the meantime… work out your issues." He slid a finger across his neck, signaling the attendant to end communication.

The screen flickered and went dark.

McGee turned to look at Gibbs. "Issues?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Obviously," Gibbs answered.

* * *

**Berlin, 18:00**

"Henric Rushkin."

"Huh?" Tony looked up, meeting Ziva's eyes across the room. He had spent the past few hours sifting through muddy bus station footage for another glimpse of Ilan Bodner. The two agents had spoken approximately four words to one another since talking with Gibbs and McGee earlier that afternoon.

"Rushkin… he served with Ilan in the IDF a number of years ago. I remember… Ilan talking about a visit with Henric. I believe he lived near Lichtenburg."

Tony opened his laptop and pulled up a map of Berlin. It took him a few seconds to locate Lichtenburg. "East Berlin," he said, spinning the computer around so that Ziva could see. "Probably fifteen minutes away by cab."

Ziva dialed McGee, giving him the name and last known location. "He'll text the address when he finds it," she said, snapping her phone closed.

Tony nodded and tapped his fingers against the table, "Henric… that's not a Hebrew name?"

Ziva, who was pacing around the table, stopped and made a snorting noise. "No… I believe his father was German and mother was Israeli." She sat down in the chair next to Tony and offered a small smile, "probably quite the scandal."

A few minutes later, she read the address off her phone and Tony Googled the location. "It's a bar," he said, squinting at the computer.

"McGee says it is owned by Henric Rushkin. He lives in the apartment above." Ziva stood and leaned over Tony's shoulder, reading the screen, "Adagio... odd name."

"Hope you brought your dancing shoes," Tony said, shutting his computer and turning around in his chair to look at Ziva. "Did you ever meet this Henric guy?"

Ziva shook her head, "I only saw pictures."

"So there's no chance he would recognize you?"

She shook her head again and made her way toward the bedroom to change. "I was still in school when Ilan started in the IDF. It was a part of his life that did not involve me or… my family."

Tony went into his own bedroom and pulled a new shirt out of the closet. He had hung up his clothes in an attempt to avoid having to iron later, and chided himself for tossing his suit coat on the floor the night before. He had just pulled his new shirt on when her head poked through the door.

"I think Tali may have met him once," she said, watching as he buttoned his shirt.

Tony paused briefly at the mention of Ziva's younger sister and then turned toward the bureau to grab his tie. "She must have been young."

"Maybe… fourteen or fifteen?" Ziva answered. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was already in the Israeli Army by then and was not home for their visit."

They were silent for a minute, Ziva watching Tony move around the room, gathering his gun, wallet, and other various items that had been strewn about.

Breaking the silence and turning back toward her, Tony asked, "What are you going to do if you see Bodner?"

Ziva sighed and moved toward him, reaching out to straighten his tie. "He will not risk getting caught out in the open," she replied, "not with so many people looking for him." She finished adjusting the knot and, standing back to look at her work, she gave him a small smile, "much better."

"Well, just in case, at least promise me you won't shoot him on sight?" Tony reached to grab his jacket off the bed and turned back just in time to see Ziva roll her eyes.

"I will not shoot… first," she said with a smirk.

Tony shot her a smile, "that's the spirit." He moved past her and only stopped when he felt her hand on his arm.

"Tony, I…."

He turned back toward her, waiting.

She sighed, eyes flickering toward the floor, and then back to meet his. "I did not want you held responsible for my actions." She gave his arm a squeeze. "You have been… after my father was…." Her voice trailed off.

"I meant what I said, Ziva," he said, taking his hand and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "You are not alone."

"I know," her eyes were cast down. The bedroom lamp was dimmed, bathing her in soft light and making her appear smaller, more fragile.

Tony didn't know what to do, how to act. Ziva rarely let her guard down; rarely let anyone see her vulnerability. He needed her to know that she was forgiven. Her gaze was still cast downward, making an honest conversation difficult. He slowly tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "What are you afraid of?" he whispered. His heart thumped hard in his chest. Their faces were inches apart now—Tony's brain was screaming in protest, demanding that he stop and think about the consequences of this situation. In her eyes, he saw a flash of—what? Fear?

Ziva's hand was still on his arm, thumb absentmindedly rubbing his bicep. "Everything," she said, finally.

Her lips were so close now. He could feel the heat from her breath. He moved his hand from the side of her face to the back of her neck slowly, and moved her mouth to meet his, whispering, "don't be." He feared she would pull back at the last second, but as their lips softly met, electricity shot down his spine. He felt her hand move into his hair and her body shift toward him. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but they were the best, and most terrifying, seconds Tony ever had. As he pulled back, he felt her inhale slowly. He was afraid to open his eyes; afraid the world had shifted under his feet.

"Tony…" she murmured his name into his ear in a tone so soft, he had to strain to hear.

He cleared his throat, willing his voice to work. "Yeah?" His hand was still resting on the back of her head, fingers entwined in her long hair. He exhaled and finally met her eyes.

"Gibbs is…"

"Going to head slap me into the next..."

"No, Tony… he is calling." Ziva pulled back, severing the connection between their bodies. She lifted his phone off the bureau and handed it to him.

He flipped it open and took a deep breath, hoping he would come across sounding normal. Tony did not want Gibbs' trusty gut to be alerted before he figured out what just happened. "Yeah, boss," he finally said.

"It's Abby."

Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, and Gibbs… I'm on speaker phone." He could hear the low beat of her music in the background.

"What'd you find?" he asked, voice cracking slightly.

"Great question, Tony!" she said, enthusiastically. "A connection between our bar owner and the infamous counterfeiter." She paused for dramatic effect. "It seems that Henric Rushkin has been running a side business out of his apartment."

"Let me guess… a counterfeiting business?"

"Bingo."

"Thanks, Abby," he said. He started to pull the phone away from his ear, but was stopped by Abby's voice.

"Wait, there's more!" she shouted into the phone. "We found email messages from Bodner to Henric, going back years… he's been paying Henric to provide fake identification for… well, for a lot of pople."

Tony leaned against the wall, realization hitting him. "Henric's the middle man."

"Exactly. And Wollf's work is good. If Bodner gets a hold of a new passport, it'll take a while to find him."

"That's why we need to get to him before Wollf does." Tony looked up at Ziva, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window. Her fingers were resting gently on her lips. Tony's mind flashed back momentarily to the feeling of her lips on his.

"Tony!" Abby's voice rung in her ears.

"Yeah? Sorry."

"How is Ziva holding up?"

Tony turned away from his partner, "she's fine, Abbs… great." He grimaced. _Great?_ _Not believable._ "You know," he laughed awkwardly and cleared his throat. "She's… Ziva."

"I mean, it must be hard… searching for the man who killed your father, who also grew up as a brother to you," Abby was rambling.

"Yeah, she's fine, Abby." Tony desperately wished this conversation would be over. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna let you go now…."

"Something bothering you, DiNozzo?" It was the first time Gibbs had spoken.

"Nope, nothing wrong here, boss," he lied. "We're just," he cleared his throat, "about ready to leave for Henric's bar… Adagio." He was talking too much.

Silence.

Abby's voice again, "okay… well… bye, Tony. Good luck!"

Tony shut the phone, gripping it tightly in his fist. Ziva was still sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles.

"Smooth, Tony," she said, finally meeting his gaze.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well…" he shot her a half-smile and shook his head, "I am having a hard time wrapping my brain around…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"You are… not alone," she replied after a second. She lowered her eyes and fingered her star-of-David necklace.

Tony pulled himself together and looked at her, perched on the bed, a bewildered expression on her face. A few minutes ago she was alert, focused. What had they done? He took a deep breath and crossed the room. He couldn't let her get lost in her thoughts, not before they found Bodner. Tony knelt in front of her and put his hands on either side of her face. "Ziva… I don't really know what to do here," he said honestly. She responded by looking up and meeting his eyes. He continued, slowly. "I think we need to…."

"Do our job," she finished.

He took a hold of her hands, giving them a squeeze. "Yeah," he said, nodding.

"And think," she added.

He nodded again.

Ziva took a deep breath and exhaled unsteadily. "I do not want to hurt you." Her eyes glistened.

Tony closed his eyes and pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her small frame. They stayed that way for a minute, kneeling on the hotel floor, her face buried in his chest. He pulled back and kissed her head, inhaling the scent of her lavender shampoo.

"Later," he said softly, "we'll figure this out later."

She nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet. They left the hotel in heavy silence, and flagged a cab. As Tony shut the car door, he tried to clear his mind and focus on the case. Ziva was counting on him to be in top form, and their partnership had to come before anything else. _We have to find Bodner_, he thought, willing his brain to participate.

Everything else would have to come later.

_phoof_


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Berlin

Chapter: 2

Note: We all need a breath of fresh air after that horrific car accident… so let's pretend for a second that it did not happen. This is the ending to a story written prior to Season 10: Berlin.

* * *

**Washington D.C.**

Ziva moved along the aisle of the plane, pushing Bodner ahead of her by his handcuffs. She had been wrong about him showing his face in public—he had assumed that nobody would be looking for him in Berlin. Letting his guard down had been his first mistake; assuming that Ziva would not find him was the second.

"You do not have to do this, Ziva," Ilan whispered hoarsely in Hebrew.

Bodner had barely spoken two words to her the entire flight. Ziva was already exhausted from lack of sleep and irritated that she had to spend the last fourteen hours sitting next to Bodner. She twisted the man around by his wrists and felt a little satisfied when he grimaced. "No, Ilan… _you_ were the one that did not need to do what you did," she spat back in their native language.

"You needn't pretend that you and your father had been close," he returned, narrowing his eyes at her. "My decision was for Israel."

She inhaled and puffed out her chest, meeting his gaze. "Your _decision_," she said, "was for _you_, Ilan." Giving him a push, she shoved him past the cabin and toward the stairs, where a dozen armed Mossad and NCIS officers were waiting for him on the tarmac.

At the bottom of the steps, she led him to Director Elbaz.

"Thank you, Ziva," the woman said, inclining her head.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at her and nodded. "NCIS will be interrogating him before he leaves the country?"

Elbaz nodded once before signaling her people to transfer him into the armored van.

Ziva watched as Ilan was walked to the vehicle. He glanced back once, and she felt his eyes boring into her. A wave of sadness washed over her. Sometimes it felt like everyone from her old life chose the wrong path. The people that she had relied on during her Mossad days were disappearing. Her safety net was now Schmeil and her NCIS family. As if on cue, she suddenly felt Gibbs' presence beside her.

"Nice work, Ziver," he said, clapping her on the shoulder.

She breathed in and bit her lip. The emotions that had built up in the past two days were rushing around inside her, threatening to overflow. The kiss between her and Tony, the adrenalin from capturing Bodner alive, the long transport… she braved a look at her boss. He was looking back at her curiously.

"You alright?" he asked, brow furrowed.

She nodded and bit her lip. "It has been a long trip."

In that moment, Tony approached. A look of concern was evident on his face as he looked at her. "Boss, they're ready to leave with Bodner."

Ziva braved a look at Tony. His eyes searched hers, looking for answers that weren't there. She had built such a wonderful life in D.C. The thought of following her heart and risking the team dynamics (and her job) was terrifying.

Gibbs, who had briefly exchanged a few words with Director Elbaz, turned back toward the agents. "Let's go," he said, scooping up Ziva's luggage and starting toward the car. Tony picked up his own bag and followed, leading Ziva by the small of her back. They tossed the bags easily into the trunk.

"It's time we finish this," Gibbs said as he opened the driver's side door and entered the car.

_Phoof_

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters**

Tony was exhausted and the lights in the observation room were doing nothing to keep him awake. He glanced sideways, looking at Ziva. She stood a few inches from the glass, watching the interrogation intently. Bags were visible under her brown eyes, and her tired expression mimicked his own.

"_How long had you been planning to murder Director David?"_ Tony heard Gibbs ask. He didn't listen to the response, focusing instead on Ziva's face. It had been weeks since she had slept a full night. It occurred to him that despite this, she still looked so beautiful. She wore very little makeup and her long, dark hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail. He turned back toward the glass and tapped his fingertips against his chin lightly. This thing that had happened between them was hanging in the air, making the room feel smaller. They hadn't spoken much after boarding the plane, mostly due to Bodner's presence. The unspoken words were spinning through his brain, suffocating him. He had no idea if she hoped he would just forget about it, or if she expected him to start the conversation.

He took a breath and cleared his throat, still facing the glass. "We need to talk," he said simply.

Ziva turned her head, briefly looking at his profile before facing the interrogation room again. She did not argue. "I know."

Tony looked past her, ensuring that the door to the observation room was closed. "About what happened, Ziva…"

"We kissed." The words were matter-of-fact.

He blinked, not expecting her to be so… frank. The plane ride home had been a fury of thoughts and images. The future of their jobs at NCIS versus the undeniable feelings he had for her, the sense of… contentment that he suddenly felt when she spoke the words out loud, and the realization that he had been fighting these feelings for a long time came crashing down. During the flight, a quote from the movie, _Speed_, had kept jumping into his head. _Relationships that begin under intense circumstances never work out_. Was that what this was? Much of their job was defined within the parameters of "intense circumstances." What if the powerful feeling he was experiencing wasn't love, but just a side effect of adrenalin? He looked up at her and realized all at once that what he felt was real. Maybe if this had happened seven years ago, the _Speed_ quote would have rang true. Standing in front of him now, however, was a woman that he knew better than anyone else. She was funny and smart, strong and courageous. He knew what she was feeling (most of the time) by looking into her eyes and was reasonably sure she could do the same.

She seemed to be gathering her courage. He noticed her fiddling with an ink pen, tapping it against her palm. She looked down. "Tony…"

He grabbed a hold of the pen, simultaneously stopping her repetitive movements. The room was still. In the background, Gibbs was asking Ilan another question. It was silent for a few moments. Tony swallowed, his throat dry.

Ziva reached up and touched the side of his face gently. "Our relationship has always been…"

"Complicated," he finished.

She dropped her hand and nodded. There was a beat of silence before she added, "if we go down this path… we cannot take it back."

He met her gaze. "Are you saying you want to try?"

She inhaled slowly and nodded again. "Yes."

Tony's heart leapt. He wanted to shout, to grab her and kiss her again, feel her lips and her hair and her…

As if sensing his elation, she added, "We need rules."

His thoughts came spiraling back down, eyes landing on the man sitting in front of them. "We _have_ rules, Ziva," he said, thinking of Gibb's list. His mind settled on the first one that popped into his head, Rule #12: Never date a coworker. He had already broken this one a few years back, a fact that had earned him the wrath of Gibbs.

"_Did you know about the peace treaty that Eli David was working toward?"_ Gibbs was heard asking. Ilan gave a noncommittal response, prompting a follow-up question. Tony stared ahead for a few minutes, appearing interested in the interrogation but lost in his thoughts. Ziva, for her part, was quiet, watching the interaction between Gibbs and Ilan. Ten minutes later, their boss rose from his chair and gathered up the files lying on the table.

"We have to tell him." Tony said flatly. There was no alternative. They needed to be honest from the start; Gibbs deserved that much.

Ziva was silent for a few seconds. "I know," she replied.

Tony watched as Gibbs shot Bodner one last glare and stalked out of the interrogation room. He exhaled sharply, not realizing he had been holding his breath. "I need to do it alone," he finished.

Ziva grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze before releasing him again. "I know," she said.

_Phoof_

* * *

**Gibbs' House**

Gibbs heard his front door open and close, followed by the sound of quiet footsteps above his head a few seconds later. The weight and pattern to the step suggested a male visitor, Gibbs' gut decided quickly. He kept sanding the piece of wood in front of him, back and forth, until it felt smooth under his fingertips. A few minutes went by before he felt the air pressure of the room change, signaling that the basement door had been silently opened. Whoever had entered his house unannounced was moving in his direction very slowly. It was either an incredibly inept burglar or someone very undecided about the decision to visit. He guessed the latter. Blowing the sawdust off the wood in his hands, he carried it to the circular saw and grabbed his safety goggles. As he measured and cut the angles he needed, he saw his senior field agent descend a few steps and sit down. Even through the heavy dust, Gibbs could see the nervous expression on Tony's face. He turned off the saw and pulled off his goggles.

"Gonna sit up there all night, DiNozzo?" he said.

Tony looked up, making eye contact for the first time. He cleared his throat. "Hey, boss." He folded and unfolded his hands, leaning forward on his elbows but still not making a move to stand.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, the answer obvious.

Tony took a deep breath and pulled himself easily to his feet by the handrail. He ran a hand through his hair and slowly descended the stairs, as if marching to his death.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows and picked up a hammer and his two pieces of perfectly angled wood.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Tony pulled out a stool and sat down. A few seconds went by. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. "Ah… see, I'm having trouble…"

"That's obvious," Gibbs remarked dryly. He chose a nail from a small drawer on the workbench and hammered the wood together. Afterward, he inspected his work and set the piece down.

Tony chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "See, there's all these rules… and we—err—I am trying not to break any.

Gibbs twisted the hammer in his hand, watching Tony. He had a feeling where this was going, but wanted to hear the words out loud.

"Um, boss?" Tony said. "Will you put the hammer down?" He visibly swallowed.

Gibbs suppressed a smile and set the hammer down on a shelf behind him. Without anything left to do with his hands, he dumped two mason jars of nails out on the table and poured bourbon into both. Turning toward Tony, he set the makeshift cup down in front of him.

"Thanks." He took a drink and started again. "You say it's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission, but if I don't ask permission, I'd have to break rule number six and apologize later, which is a sign of weakness." He was rambling now, twisting the drink back and forth with his hand, staring at it intently. "And then there's the one about secrets… you know, if you want to keep it a secret, don't tell anyone."

Gibbs took a sip of bourbon, feeling the liquid burn as it slid down his throat. As Tony spoke, he noticed another member of his team sitting quietly at the top of the stairs. Stealthier than Tony, he hadn't heard her enter. Also unlike Tony, her eyes held no apology. The look on her face confirmed his suspicions.

"But secrets seem to never stay that way, you know?" Tony didn't notice Gibbs' distracted look, and was continuing his monologue without taking a breath. "And then we're back to the apologizing and the head slapping." His head shot up, making eye contact with Gibbs for the first time since he started talking. "Which I'd really like to avoid, by the way."

"Out with it, DiNozzo."

Tony took a deep breath, eyes flicking toward the ceiling as if saying a quick prayer. "Something happened in Berlin… with Ziva."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows, making sure to keep his expression neutral. "Gonna have to be a little more specific."

Tony looked him dead in the eyes this time, his face serious. "I kissed her."

"Rule number twe…."

"I need permission to break it," Tony interrupted.

"_We_ need permission." It was the first time Ziva had spoken. She rose from her seated position on the stairs and made her way down the stairs toward the two men. She stopped and stood next to Tony, being careful not to touch him, as if to say _nothing will happen unless you say it can._

Gibbs tapped his glass against the table thoughtfully. He, and probably everyone else on the team, knew this would come to a head eventually. Watching their relationship over the years was like watching two magnets hurdle toward one another. There had been periods of anger and distrust, when he wondered if they would implode, followed by a constant return to "normal." He thought fleetingly of Jenny, and the hard choices they had made, and tried to remind himself that every relationship was different.

"The minute it interferes with this team," he said, "You're transferred."

Tony didn't break eye contact. "Okay."

Gibbs picked up his glass and swallowed the last of his bourbon. He moved past the two agents, still standing side-by-side, and added, "turn off the lights when you leave," before setting his empty glass on the bench and going upstairs. As he switched off the lights in kitchen and living room, he wondered how he would have felt if the two agents had decided not to ask his permission before jumping into a relationship. When he had found out about DiNozzo and EJ, he'd been livid. Somehow though, this was different. This wasn't about sex-perhaps that was their saving grace. Gibbs realized that not one shred of his being worried whether it would work out or not and he was only slightly concerned about what the other team members would think if Tony or Ziva decided to indulge them. McGee, Abby, and the others had probably seen it coming, just as Gibbs himself had. _Things eventually have to change,_ he thought, _and they deserve to be happy._

* * *

Tony exhaled and let out a chuckle. "Well, that was easier than I expected." He shook his head. "I thought you were going to sit this one out?"

Ziva turned to face him. "All I could think about was being called to investigate your… disappearance tomorrow morning." She smiled, and added, "I am sure Gibbs would be very good at hiding a body."

He chuckled, "And that made you decide to come save my life—because you couldn't live without me."

She smirked. "I was thinking about all the paperwork."

Tony rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Are you ready for this?" he asked. "Now that Gibbs knows, there's no going back."

She smiled, taking his hand and pulling him toward the stairs. "We shall see," she answered.

As they shut off the basement light and left Gibbs' house, Tony breathed a sigh of relief. The conversation with his boss could have gone a very different direction, and he was grateful to be outside, with Ziva, free and clear. He let out a laugh and swung her around to face him on the sidewalk by her car. The streetlight glowed above them, bathing the pair in soft white light. It was April, but the evening air was chilly now that the sun had set. Ziva smiled back at Tony and wrapped her arms around his neck. He hadn't kissed her since they were in the hotel in Berlin. Part of him had been worried that Gibbs would stick to the rules, making a relationship impossible without transferring divisions. As she pulled him closer, all his worry melted away. He wrapped his arms around her and as their lips met, he felt sparks of electricity shoot up his spine. Her lips were softer than he remembered. After a few seconds, he leaned back, severing the connection. "I could do this forever."

She smiled and looked down momentarily. "We will see."

He kissed her nose and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of her. They stood in front of her car. "Well, not letting this interfere with our work is going to start a lot sooner than I thought," he said. "See you tomorrow morning?"

She gave him one last peck on the lips. "Tomorrow morning."

He watched her shut the door and start the engine before turning toward his car. It was then that he noticed Gibbs standing in the window, watching them leave.

He saluted his boss, hoping he knew how thankful he was for the stamp of approval. Knowing that Gibbs did not consider this endeavor to be a mistake was enough to silence the remaining doubt in Tony's mind.

_Phoof_


End file.
